The One Where Clint Learns a Lesson
by Crimson Zephyr
Summary: Perhaps Clint should abide by the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover' a little more often.


I have been working on this for a while now and I'm really proud of it :) A big thanks to Luna for helping me out and putting up with my craziness. I WUV U!

Anyway, enjoy the first installment of my Marvel!Pokéverse series :D Part II is already in the works!

. . .

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the franchises used in this fanfic.

* * *

[Late June, 1997]

Clint is bored.

When he volunteered to accompany his older brother to Johto for the summer, the twelve-year-old boy assumes that they would be exploring the new region and discovering Pokémon uncommon in Unova…not spending all of their time in some rinky-dink town located near the mountains. His brother assures him that they will head to Lake of Rage tomorrow, except that is what he said yesterday and the day before that…and the day before that one.

So now, here he is, brooding in the Pokémon Center's vacant sitting area while rolling a Pokéball in his hand. His brother disappeared early in the morning on some mysterious errand, leaving the boy to his own devices; some trip this turned out to be.

Clint can seek out and challenge someone to a Pokémon battle to stave off his boredom, but the trainers that traipse in and out of the center daily are bigger and clearly more experienced than he is; he learnt a long time ago never to challenge people like that ever again thanks to a certain brother.

What he needs is someone weaker and timid. Someone he can gloat over. Someone that is—

"Nurse Joy! Nurse Joy!"

Thoughts interrupted, Clint watches a brunet boy roughly the same age as him, wearing an oversized green t-shirt and baggy purple shorts, breeze through the automatic doors, before they have a chance to fully open, and hastily approaches the front desk, clutching a Pokéball tight to his chest; he apparently did not notice visiting Mistralton native sitting a few feet away.

Clint slides down in the armchair to avoid being seen; thank goodness that the back of the chair is facing the front desk. He slowly peeks out from behind the arm, curiously staring at the fretting boy.

Nurse Joy and a Chansey flit over to the brunet, familiar worry etched on their faces; he must visit them a lot.

"Bruce, what's wrong?" the pink-haired woman asks.

The boy, Bruce, hiccups twice, brown eyes rimmed with unshed tears behind a pair of bulky glasses. "Hulky…he was hurt…" he says, holding up the Pokéball.

Clint mentally snorts, rolling his eyes at the weird and obviously girly nickname.

"Oh dear, not again! Chansey, please escort Mister Banner to the examine room."

The egg-shaped Pokémon quickly nods, waddling over to Bruce and soothingly patting a head of unruly curls as she leads him to the doors behind the desk with Nurse Joy following after, leaving Clint by himself once more.

A small smirk pulls at Clint's mouth as he heads back to his room to plan.

. . .

Bruce is happy; well, happier than he was this morning.

He smiles at the Pokéball nestled in his hands while he enters the park, relieved that his friend's wounds healed quickly so that he did not have to stay at the Pokémon Center overnight; Hulky dislikes being away from Bruce for too long.

A sad frown mars the boy's face as he recalls the event that happened a little over four hours ago.

Bruce and Hulky were training in the woods outside his hometown when one of trees Hulky blasted almost landed on an Ursaring who was reaching for a beehive situated on one of the branches. The large bear growled in displeasure at seeing its lunch spoiled and attacked the pair. Hulky immediately protected his young trainer, confident that he would win due to type advantage, but that thought went out the window when two other Ursaring jumped out from the brush and joined the fray. Bruce was panicking, near hysterical, since he did not have any other Pokémon to send out to help; Hulky is his only friend. Just before things took a turn for the worst, a large Skarmory, which was of a different color entirely, swooped down with a loud screech and barreled into the Ursaring trio, sending them flying away from the beaten Pokémon. With the bears distracted at the new arrival, Bruce quickly returned a bruised Hulky to his Pokéball and made a beeline to the Pokémon Center.

Bruce pockets the Pokéball and hops up on a park bench, enjoying the ambience surrounding him. He loves coming here and listen to the trees rustle, the bubbling of the fountain, and the—

"Hey! You!"

—peaceful atmosphere.

Looking to his right, Bruce finds a lanky boy his age, wearing a dark purple vest with numerous pockets and black cargo pants, with short and spiky sandy-blond hair and blue eyes, standing a few feet from him with arms crossed. With a pompous grin, the boy strides over.

"May I help you?" Bruce politely asks, despite feeling uneasy in the other boy's presence.

"I challenge you to a battle!" the blond says, his grin growing wider.

"A battle? Why?"

"Because I'm bored and you're the perfect person to help me."

Bruce cocks his head to the side. "Why am I perfect?"

"Geez, you ask a lot of questions. It's because if I challenge anyone else, I'll get creamed. But you…you have that whole pushover look."

"Pushover?"

"Yeah, pushover. Pansy. Chump. Look, can we get to battling already? I really wanna kick your butt."

The brunet trainer sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry but I must decline. My friend was just healed and I do not want to get him hurt again today."

"Oh come on!" the blond boy loudly groans. "Just one battle isn't gonna kill it. That's why they created Pokémon Centers."

Bruce narrows his eyes. "My Pokémon is a 'him', not an 'it'."

"Whatever, pansy boy. You're probably too embarrassed to send out it since it's weak as hell if you have to keep bringing it to get healed all of the time."

"Hulky is not weak!"

"Please. With a name like that, it's probably a pushover like you~"

In a flurry of movement, Bruce is on his feet, intensely staring at the other boy. "What's your name?"

"Clint Barton."

"I'm Bruce Banner."

. . .

The moment they return to the Pokémon Center, the boys head for the practice field out back. Clint already has a Pokéball out and ready; Bruce follows after.

"Ready, Brucey?" Clint taunts.

The brunet says nothing, only nodding.

With a practiced throw, the Mistralton native's Pokéball snaps open with a bright light shooting out.

"Go, Watchog!"

A bipedal meerkat-like creature with brown fur, yellow stripes, and puffy cheeks appears in front of its trainer. It makes a slight squeak while it waits for its opponent to appear.

Bruce takes out his only Pokéball and stares at the object, feeling reluctant. He starts to second guess his decision, knowing full well that Hulky would seriously hurt Watchog. Should he decline, Clint will never leave him alone and resume the taunting. On the other hand, the blond needs to be taught a lesson.

"Well, send out your Pokémon already!" Clint impatiently shouts.

The bespectacled boy heavily sighs. "You are going to regret challenging me."

Clint questioningly arches an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Because you made me angry and when I'm angry, so is he."

Instead of throwing the spherical ball in the air, the brunet only pushes the button to release his friend, engulfing the grounds in a white luminance. A deafening roar is heard when the light dies down to reveal a large bipedal dinosaur-like creature with green armored skin, sharp fangs and claws, and spikes protruding from his back and tail. Instead of appearing on the field, Hulky stands next to his trainer, glaring at the shocked duo.

Clint and Watchog stumble back with the latter quivering.

"W-What the hell is that?!" Clint shouts in disbelief while looking slightly terrified; his Pokémon mirrors its owner's expression.

"This is Hulky, my Tyranitar," Bruce calmly replies, patting Hulky's on his leg.

Clint is royally screwed, although he would never verbalize it. When he heard the name 'Hulky', he assumed that it would be a cutesy Pokémon, not this monstrous behemoth!

"Tyrani—What?"

"You're not backing out, are you, Clint?" smiles Bruce as he pushes his glasses up with a dangerous glint.

The blond-haired trainer gulps. He curls his hands into fists, trying to steel his nerves. This is insane. His first battle in Johto and it is to this…nerd and a freaking monster! Clint begins mentally cursing his brother for bringing him here.

"No way in hell, pansy boy! Just because you have some giant monster doesn't mean squat. Let's go, Watchog!"

Watchog looks at its trainer and then back at Hulky, who is still glaring. If its owner can be brave, so can it. Squeaking loudly, it scurried back to its original spot, tail twitching.

Bruce runs a hand through his brown curls. "Alright, Clint. Whatever you say."

The last thing Clint sees is Hulky giving him a fanged smirk.

. . .

"So…do you want to talk about it?"

Clint scowls in his brother's direction as he places a band-aid over his nose, adding to the collection gathering on his face and bare arms.

"Not really…" he grumbles, fishing for another band-aid from the kit.

Barney sighs and plops down next to his sibling on the small bed.

"Come on, Clint, I know you. You suck at keeping things to yourself. Remember when Bobbi asked if those pants made her butt look fat and you agreed?"

The younger Barton shudders. "Fine…" He pauses briefly. "…I lost a battle."

"You…lost?"

"Yeah…"

"The confident Clint Barton lost a Pokémon battle?"

"Bro…"

"The same Clint Barton who proclaimed that he is the best trainer ever to come out of Mistralton…after Miles of course."

"You suck, Barney."

Barney snickers lightly and ruffles his brother's hair. "Losing a battle is nothing to sulk over. Believe me. I've had my share of bad battles."

Clint hastily turns around, looking up at his brother with wide eyes. "B-But you're the talented Barney 'Trickshot' Barton! You're able to pick out your opponent's weaknesses and hit it dead on!"

"That was long before I became a Champion, little brother. When I was your age, I thought that pure strength was the answer," Barney wistfully smiles. "I didn't care about much of anything when it came to strategy and planning."

"What changed your mind?"

"A feisty blonde equipped with a wicked temper and a right hook to match. After she beat me in a battle, she gave me a four hour long lecture on the joys of Pokémon."

"I'd rather take a girl over a nerdy kid with a Tyranitar any day," the younger Barton mumbles.

Barney blinks. "A Tyranitar? I heard those are horribly strong and bad-tempered."

"I didn't know that it was a monster!" Clint pouts. "Damn kid called it 'Hulky', for Arceus' sake!"

"Ah, Clint, you know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover~"

"Shut up!" the blond boy shouts, punching his older brother in the arm.

Barney only chuckles, humorously taking the punch, and falls backward on the bed. Clint jumps off the mattress and heads for the door, telling his brother that he is going to check on Watchog.

"Just clarify something for me before you go. If Watchog was doing the battling, how did you get scratched up?"

Clint faintly blushes from embarrassment. "Damn monster just flicked its tail at Watchog which sent it flying into me and then both of us went sailing into a prickly bush a few yards away."

The elder Barton snorts before he lets out a loud barking laugh, holding his sides while rolling along the bed in unbridled hilarity.

"Shut up, Barney!"

. . .

"I wonder if Clint and Watchog are alright. You did send them flying a little too hard, Hulky."

Hulky grunts and curls closer to his trainer on the large reinforced bed they share. Bruce smiles and pats his friend's snout.

"I know he was being a total jerk but I think he wasn't that bad. A little rough around the edges, I guess, like you."

The dinosaur-like Pokémon snorts as if saying 'I am not'.

"Yes, you are and don't deny it."

A deep growl rumbles in the Tyranitar's throat.

"Don't growl at me, Hulky, or do you want to spend a night in your Pokéball?"

All manner of noise stop as Hulky nuzzles his friend's hair in apology. Bruce sighs, pulling the bedspread up higher. Within moments, both trainer and Pokémon are fast asleep with Hulky dreaming about smashing things and Bruce dreaming about a cocky blond-haired boy.

. . .

Clint drums his fingers against his knee as he sits outside the Pokémon Center, waiting for his brother to return from gathering supplies. Today is the day they are finally leaving Mahogany Town. No more boring days alone, no more stupid errands, and certainly no more geeky boys with monster pets.

"Good morning, Clint."

Damn, he spoke too soon. The blond-haired boy ignores Bruce and continues drumming his fingers.

"You're mad. I understand."

Clint grunts.

"I want to apologize—"

"Why do you need to apologize?" Clint asks with a hint of bitterness, not looking at the other at all. "It was a battle. Whatever."

Bruce wants to say more but he figures that the other boy will not listen and coldly brush him off. Hiding a sad frown, the brunet mumbles a curt 'Fine' before walking away, leaving Clint to his sour musings.

Perhaps it is better that Bruce tries not to reconcile with the blond since he will probably never see him again.

As the bespectacled boy turns a corner down the path leading away from the Pokémon Center, he does not notice someone walking in front of him and accidentally bumps into them.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Bruce quickly apologizes.

A tall blond-haired young man dressed in a maroon vest and black jeans, with eyes covered by a pair of tinted sunglasses and hands clothed in a pair of fingerless gloves, looks down at the young boy. Several grocery bags are gathered in one arm with a large duffel bag slung over a shoulder. Six Pokéballs decorate the studded belt looped around his waist.

"No problem, buddy," he beams.

Bruce nods, stepping aside. The tall blond playfully ruffles the brunet's hair with his free hand in passing.

Confused, Bruce pats down the mussed up curls and watches the young man leave in the opposite direction.

'_I wonder why he did that_.'

Pushing the thought away, the bespectacled boy begins his trek back to his house; maybe he will stop by the park before lunch.

Meanwhile, back at the Pokéman Center, Clint jumps to his feet once he spots his brother walking up the path.

"Finally!" he shouts. "Geez, how long does it take to buy a few things?"

Barney rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses. "A few? We're going to the Lake of Rage, Clint. It's not exactly a fun day at a picnic up there."

The younger Barton snorts, picking up his own duffel bag and slinging it over a shoulder. "Whatever."

The tall blond only sighs, wishing and hoping that Clint's attitude will change for the better. Reaching toward his belt, Barney unlocks the first Pokéball and tosses it up. The spherical object snaps open, dispelling a bright light from within. As the light dissipates, a Skarmory, that is large enough for two people to ride, appears next to its trainer. Aside from its abnormal size, its feathers are a completely different color, distinguishing it from other Skarmory.

"Up for a flight, baby?" Barney coos, petting the metal bird's head.

Skarmory happily caws, nuzzling against his hand, in reply.

"Good girl," Barney smiles before turning to his brother. "Alright, Clint, hop on while I go say good-bye to Nurse Joy."

Clint carefully climbs on the Pokémon's back, sliding up so Barney has room to get on. After a few minutes, the elder Barton returns outside. He passes the grocery bags to Clint to hold on to while he situates himself on Skarmory. Once the brothers are safely mounted, the steel bird unfurls her giant wings and takes off, creating a dust cloud in her wake.

As the trio flies north of Mahogany Town, Clint spots a familiar head of brown curls entering the park. Pouting, he looks away briefly until his gaze shifts back to Bruce.

"See something, Clint?" Barney asks, noticing how quiet his brother is being.

The young boy shakes his head. "Nah, not really."

"If you say so, lil' bro."

Barney is no fool. He spotted the curly-haired brunet long before Clint did. When he ran into the boy back at the center, Barney knew that he is the same one he helped save a couple of days ago and the one that Clint was complaining about.

'_I have a feeling Clint and that kid will cross paths again_,' Barney mentally muses, smirking.


End file.
